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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26869711">Proses</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/heaurt/pseuds/heaurt'>heaurt</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Poetry, English, Epic Poetry, Erotic Poetry, Literature, Love, Love Poems, Meta Poetry, Neil Perry (Dead Poets Society) Lives, Other, Poetry, Prose Poem, Purple Prose, Random &amp; Short, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:08:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,796</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26869711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/heaurt/pseuds/heaurt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
      <p>The poetries i wrote belongs to mine. I hope you enjoy my words and take good care of it.</p><p>–quentin.</p>
    </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A letter for Romeo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The poetries i wrote belongs to mine. I hope you enjoy my words and take good care of it.</p><p>–quentin.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>my dearest romeo, </p><p>       i still remember how our eyes met amidst by the ballroom and i caught a glimpse how your eyes glows out of iridescent hues that mesmerizes a whole part of me. i was strucked by your lightning in my chest, i feel how you planted millions of butterflies in my divine body along the buds of love completey wrapped around in my two–hundred–fourty–six bones and planted all of the blissful gifts inside for eternity and that's how i fall for you, my romeo. we danced through the travesty of our love with smiles curved upon our lips. my romeo, you were wrong when you said you're made of disastrous poetry, i wouldnt even forget every petals escaped on your lips that feels home along with midnight lullabies despite all the war between capulet and montague that disrupt us. i will recite my words i weave with our whispered promises and your favorite daffodil petals as my lullabies for you to sleep. perhaps, i saved my lips for your kisses to smooch against mine. so that's how you painted my life with your lilac hues with solace.</p><p>       oh romeo, i waited every lonely nights for you to meet me at the balcony so we will look upon the stars and seize every seasons while our love lasted. my romeo, you are my ripped masterpiece that speaks partiality that i never want to let go but to keep within my soul as i feel the love of yours fuels through my veins. you are the love that i always pray for the deities at the quiet cathedral every night before i sleep. i've always long for your warmest arms to embrace my soul and feel the safe tranquil every night in the glorious heavens you brought me into. i will gladly let you break my heart beautifully like how you plucked dandelions once in a blue moon and bathe you in subtle sartorial rainbows during sunrise breakdowns. if ever you are going to come back in my arms, I would let you. i would let you feel the warmth that I gave.</p><p>       let our hands intertwine and dance beneath the thousand stars, so i'll let my poésy lips leave lavender kisses on your cheeks. </p><p>       and I will hold on to you tight 'till death do us part, my romeo.</p><p>sincerely, juliet</p><p>—quentin. 080920</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Yearn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>my darling, angelo. let the stars guide your pink feet throughout on your way home safely while i wish the dear universe to protect you. i want to hear the broken records of vinyl tapes escaped from your lips once again, i never liked them but i would love to listen and im sure valerio loves it more than i do. have your eyes discovered the cruelty of the outside world? if ever you have to comeback in my arms again, i would love to see you, your pinkish–pale eyes that glows out my favorite hues every morning that mom loves to see. i have seen how you desire solace from me, i could have kept you within my heart but i didn't. angelo, you have always remind me of toronto's snowfall during winter solstice while the sun peaks through. darling, comeback and let your feet take where your home is, so find me. darling find me and i will hold you once again. </p><p>—quentin. 091220; 2:40 pm</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. qn.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>i nurture lavenders deep within my body and ought to weave poems that no one dared crafting in their own palms to feed thyself and birth another literature in another lifetime. by that no one meant to breathe the embitter–sweet petals i conveyed upon my crumpled papers and engrave them with my broken pieces of my soul and collected remnants of dead stars. </p><p>–quentin. 090320</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. 𝟏–𝟖𝟎𝟎–𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄–𝐘𝐎𝐔</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>i plucked carnations and embroidered every words as i bind them together with my heartstrings to appease her whole being, so my words do touch every inch chasms of her soul. every poems i cried out at 12:00 am midnights, i coated them with lavender scent for her to eat and taste the handmade sincerity at every month of eighteenth. i found an angel— she, herself breathing in between the byzantine buds of purity from the heavens she brought me into. i couldn't forget how her eyes held thousands of stars with merriment as we intertwine our kaleidoscopic souls and her love runs in my veins, so will write my love poems on her hands so she will never forget. because, i will love her for eternity. i hope you the felt warmth of every word i stitched. i'd always wish that this would last forever even though nothing lasts forever. </p><p>–quentin. 073020</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. darling.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>mi querido, would love to see your freckles constellations of cassiopeia etched upon your beige–cherry cheeks that shines at every darkness. well, i couldn't forget how your voice that reminds me of a saddest songs of 2004 playlist that you always cry over at every 3 a.m sunrise until you fall asleep. at every afternoons, your birds that sang adorably loud until you woke up from a deep slumber you went, another day–another page to start off with coffee scent that lingers at every corner and two loafs for you to eat. let us wait until we see each other's watermelon smiles plastered upon our faces with our jolliest laughters we exchanged and we wander over the busy streets of la purisima and plaza town, because boy! i'd love that. hagamos algo que nos haga sentir cómodos. as we raise our cups to cheer for ourselves, we went throughout the bridges of forbidden days and a path of rainbows and sunshine. i'd be always there to give my calloused hands and offer my voice if you need, i'd be there to wrap my abode arms if you want to, bhie, you deserve it. so let me be the one who will write the words on your pilgrim palms so you will never forget. por favor, siempre pon una sonrisa en tu cara.<br/>
amigo. </p><p>–quentin. 072420</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. 505</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>my calloused feet takes every step into the moist verdant floor of danger as i run towards the depths of dusky forest whilst i catch every breath of poésie to look for a way to escape the realm of monstrousity as i covered both of my ears hearing the disembodied voices of hoplessness and miseries until i weep yet the shady clouds began to shower its tears as i bathe myself with acrid waters of despair and desolation whilst the loud roar of thunder told me that i can't go back to the way it was. as for now, i am trapped. now i found myself crumble in the midst of crestfallen forest. i didnt choose to be in this realm, but the realm chose me. this is me trying to find the missing pieces of myself as i strive to build myself once again with jouissance because i'd still walk this path for a hundred times. i stitched my words and tied them up with my shattered heart. detente y espera un segundo oh, cuando me miras así, mi amor ¿que esperabas? </p><p>–quentin. 082620</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Five things i hate about you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>dear Johnny, </p><p>what are you up to right now? i hope you read my poetries and proses i conveyed and plucked from one of the thousandth heart strings to another within my heart, im sure my words does etched upon your lungs to form a mosaic art after you read them. have you listened to the playlist i've made? i hope you do because some days, the tip of my fingers cannot scribble words i would love to say–so i let my prefered songs to pass on its message through the melodic beat you never understand, though at some times you love it a̶s̶ ̶m̶u̶c̶h̶ ̶a̶s̶ ̶i̶ ̶d̶o̶. little do you know that i still keep the bouquet of sunflowers you gave me from first time you confessed to me at 14th of february– while the scent of it still lingers, it reminds me of you a lot or maybe i just missed you too much. let us see each other once again in the middle of madrid's museum—the time when you robbed my heart out of my chest. querido, i missed your presence and everything, over time it made me hate them and hate about you more.</p><p>now let me tell you this, my darling. there are 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆 things i hate about you. </p><p>𝒐𝒏𝒆. your voice.<br/>
— it has always been my favorite soundtrack ever since i met you in the middle alley of madrid. little do you know it gives me comfort when the melodies escaped from your lips and poetries to recite that made my lips curved into a smile during my breakdowns, your love planted millions of butterflies inside my stomach while i feel the flowers bursts within whenever you sing, your voice sounds exactly like the archangel as my lullaby. your repeated voice mails and calls on my phone is my 'molly' that i always need before we sleep together at the same time—so the sweetness mends my sleepless jasmine soul. the rain danced against the roof produced a rhythmic sound, reminds me a lot just like your laughter that happens to be my favorite sound i never get tired of listening. </p><p>𝒕𝒘𝒐. your name.<br/>
— i do write every letters of your name at the back of my notebook and my hand during our class vacant time so they will know it's you. darling, put your ears against my chest—listen my heart that always screams your name, it etched every letters and vowels of your name itself on my palm. the archangels knew your name when i prayed for you before i sleep, i asked the witches to put protection spell on your name so they won't meddle your peace, i wrote my proses that calls you when you're from afar and it knows how to form a metaphor itself through the sound of my piano that get the tongues round at every key i played. i find comfort and pain at the same time in between our melodies of your name.</p><p>𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆. your favorite songs.<br/>
— every lyrics of your favorite songs gives off a vibe from your presence that felt you're beside me whenever you're out of town that i always repeat during three am until sunrise. it tells a lot about yourself you never told me about 'cause you're not much an open book, even your favorite love songs that tells a lot about us. i remember when you said "fuck fairytales, that's not real." when the first time you heard the songs from my favorite indie bands on my playlist made ourselves wasted and dance in your room until we fall asleep. even the old songs i listen from your playlist you gave everynight while my heart crumble from missing you too much, so does our hearts connected into one same sky.</p><p>𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓. your eyes.<br/>
— when the mornings sunlight kissed your scintillating unfathomable orbs, it glows the truest colors that speaks perilous and fondness. your eyes is vibrant out of all the thousands of colours from the rainbow that i don't ever want to pick and love another. darling, it holds millions of myriad cosmos they don't understand— but i do, it glows at every darkest nights at your worst while i whisper 'i love you'. the window of your soul have seen the beauty and drawbacks throughout your friendliest eyes while it pleads for the love you always yearn so i lend my heart onto your palms. your eyes always been my favorite color, it is another form of rainbow and art that nobody knew, but me. </p><p>𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆. your lips.<br/>
— darling, your lips always placed every dulcet kisses against my wrenched scars to remind how precious i am, still. fairy tales engrave underneath from your tongue whenever you let them escape from your mouth when you spoke about love that you etch a smile upon my face. it pronounces my name whenever you look out yet— it feels different when you speak poetries from your lips. </p><p>from knowing these things about you made me love you more than i did yesterday. </p><p>–quentin. 091220; 2:46 am</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Heather</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>dear diary, </p><p>unfathomable dreary eyes locked against one's enthralling chestnut orbs that seeks for a hand to hold amongst fools through a sight of a walking gem. chromatic skies etched upon her canvass that speaks art yet she's the art itself, a lot like Renaissance art, too precious to be touched that got the glowing eyes of every corner awestrucked. a fair maiden of once fae's infinite lavender nectar flows through the lines of her palms that never whither and her Vanille took me out of my flowerbed of stars. spittle sugary knitted words escaped from her lips hereafter, her thorns its truest forms to break one's hearthstone. aphrodite birthed an angel and nursed to let her eat pristine chrysanthemums since 1951 and roses paints on her cheeks, she was named after a movie character, Heather. i wish i were Heather. sunshine's daydreams spilled and seeps underneath my blouse. her ocean orbs caught the prince head over heels and a sight for a sore eyes.</p><p>in the third day of december, his warm-hearted polyester sweater hand-knotted with heartbreaks and dead stars as it felt eccentric yet beautiful that warms my freezing skin. 'it looks better on you than mine.' he said in monotonous tone along with his uttered perilous heartbreaks coming out from his mouth that privkles my heart. she is an angel that everyone upholds forever–no wonder why he likes her, i was only made of mediocrity. eyes sored from crying out metaphors at nightfall and gained a scar from another heartbreak, if only he knew how much i loved him. if only i was heather.</p><p>–quentin. 090320</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Dove</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>ikaw ang kalapati na nasa kulungan<br/>
puno ng sama nanggaling sa<br/>
mga demonyo. mahal, ito na ang<br/>
oras at panahon ay papakawalan<br/>
ka para lamang makita mo ang buong<br/>
mundo </p><p>dumadagundog na ingay mula sa malayo, ang ating mundong makulimlim at mayroong kumikinang na kislap ngunit hindi'y mahanaphanap, habang ang iyong kamay humahaplos tutol sa aking rosas na pisngi ay ramdam ko; ang aliw galing sa iyong mapayapang puso. mahal, hinayaan kita diyan para lamang tumubo ang mga puting malawak na pakpak ni seraphim upang makalaya at makalipad ka sa malayong cielo hangga't hindi tayo magkita sa isa't isa. mga libong makinang bituin na tulad ng iyong mga mata ay nasa kalangitan ng gabi,  bawat mag iisang kong gabi pipitasin ko ang mga bituin upang ilagay sa iyong sawing katawan para ika'y lumaban pa. at susulatin ko ang mga ika-isa haggang huling prosa para lamang sa iyo— sa mga tuwing tahimik na gabi, dindadalangin kita sa diyos at sa mga anghel. iguhit ko ang mga mukha ng mga demonyo sa kumong papel at ibahagi mga tula't prosa kong nanggaling sa aking sawing puso ngunit susunugin ito gamit ng mga luha ng anghel upang malaya ka sa masasamang pangyayari sa mundong ito, kaya ngayon papakawalan na kita. </p><p>sa susunod, hindi na muli tayong magkikita. ang mga nakikita kong mukha noon ay hindi ko maaalala ngunit sila ang mga taong itinago ko sa aking puso. at ngingiti na lamang dahil nangyari ito, ikaw ang anghel na nangangahulugang takutin ang mga demonyo, kaya't sinta na lumipad ng mataas.</p><p>ikaw ang kalapati na nasa kulungan<br/>
na puno ng sama nanggaling sa<br/>
mga demonyo. mahal, ito na ang<br/>
oras at panahon ay papakawalan<br/>
ka para lamang makita mo ang buong<br/>
mundo</p><p>–quentin. 091520; 1:32 am</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Church</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His eyes speaks the superficial poetry of love that shines prismatic colors set on his visions that laid upon my metaphorical figure made of petals. I once bathe in luminescent moonlight as i plucked thirteen dead stars for my proses to engrave the warmth underneath his tongue, soon baby's breath will grow as he speak Valentine's language of love, and my love will stay for eternity. </p><p>I won't let go of the loving man's soul that angels offered for me but instead, I will keep within the chasms of my heart. He breathe out his chamomile breaths on the lover's nape and his crimson lips that draws bruises against my skin and planted love poems that kissed the pain away upon my lips I crave for more. It brought me into the places i've never been and never felt the blossoms in my heart. His hands traveled around my figure to caress every constellations and scars etched upon my skin and leave the sweetest smooches. His perilous love electrified flows throughout of my veins filled with solace i yearn and his nails dug stars underneath my heart. Luminous kaleidoscopic hues peeking through my soul when the lunar's fingertips planted cosmos and leaving destructive explored touches in between of my fiery thighs, that's when i found myself interlocked in my man's abode arms along our souls intertwined as we reached the heaven. My heart never skipped a single beat that screams his name and writing every letters of his name on my palms.</p><p>You brought warmth into my soul and i will keep you deep within my heart.</p><p>Your voice became the soundtrack i never get tired of listening and seeing your lips etched into smile that glows out the scorching sunlight, and my hands ached from weaving verses yet it won't stop crafting for you. And let me hold on to your hand for years of my life.</p><p>–quentin. 082220; 6:57 pm</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Meant for you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>let your soul listen to my heart beating out of my chest that calls your name everytime i find you. the bursting colors peaks through that made my eyes cry out lilacs. we danced in the middle of the rain to appease each one's fears and heart aches. let me ask you, do you keep their hearts or do you crush them with your calloused hands? you have always reminded me of my sweetest odes i scribbled during my sleepless nights because darling, they remain precious as you for me. i will let go of my words hidden underneath my tongue before i can't speak. your eyes has a soft touch of the sea and vibrant skies. you are the epitome of a fallen angel, perilous and holds the beauty of the eyes from those who are far. </p><p>my hands will pluck every strings from a harp to sing every vowels of your name until i lose my voice. lets connect every constellation upon the night sky. the auroras danced along with the winds and clouds alone. my lips will kiss against your holy lips. every rhythm from the harp tells about us, my hands plucked each strings of love.</p><p>–quentin. 101920</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. flowers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>and you–your feet brought yourself in my poetry that never disrupt of my oddly metaphors, you remain as a gem in my poetry. my body is painted by your rain, bows, sun, and poetry–i was made to love. you'll nurse me to kiss my rose and strum slow, paint my skin by your lips. a lie. </p><p>darling, i knew when your heart is filled with lilies and marigolds because i planted lilies and marigolds in my garden because it blooms periwinkles when i think about you at golden hour. your eyes speaks heartesease at night whilst in our heart to heart time, my pilgrim hands do pluck a piece or two of your lilies of cruelty at my every golden hours to replace another, loeust. at the end, my feet will stomp on my own garden of your lilies and marigolds. so darling, think of me when you crumble–grey mushrooms will grow on your heart.</p><p>take good care of my garden and art.</p><p>—quentin. 111920; 1:50 am</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. I AM POETRY//ART</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>i am a painting, 'twas made to appease a human being's heart since a hundred years ago when they looked at- and read me beautifully like van gogh's starry night or monet's scenery pieces. my colors comfort their hearts and mind at all once, for it gives their atmosphere peace and beauty. i am an art, i am my own art–my hands will paint using my crimson blood or either rain tears and beaten bruises in my skin and i don't perish yet i exist for eternity. i am artistically beautiful when i was born and made by the gods and goddesses, yet i was born in different shades and tint to begin with and varnish my last part of my life. my soul is made of art. </p><p>i am a poetry, 'twas made to appease a human being's mind when they read my words beautifully like william shakespeare's sonnets or edgar allan poe's books. my words will forever stay on their heart and mind to give them peace. i am my own poetry, i can only decipher and understand my own poetry. my metaphors define who and what i've kept inside my heart, every moments can make it out of a fresh prose that bleeds from my fingertips that makes thy heart warm. sometimes i wrote my poetry like rainbows and rain, but they don't know. i spent my hours for searching lavenders and vincent's lilies whilst i keep my poetry in my clementine palms, so darling, they won't steal my handmade metaphors. i am a poetry that was written a hundred shipwrecks years ago, i am remained as a beautiful poetry. darling, i am poetry. take good care of my words.</p><p>–quentin. I AM POETRY//ART (1:46 am ; 120220)</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. quentin.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Quentin<br/> /ˈkwɛntn/ </p><p>noun.</p><p>1. a maiden that bleeds yellows and blues upon her barren-like canvass, her hands painted the silence of poetry under the bliss of scorching sunshine. she eats rainbows at sunsets for it cures her grief and to forget.</p><p>2. her heart bleeds magic and poetry that no one else can decipher even the other poets who knew her, she–herself made mushrooms as her home of her soul. quentin said sad poetries doesn't hurt that much.</p><p>3. her thousands of handwritten love letters of prose and a card with poems sealed with lilies, her poems she cried and bloom at everynight that was made for her loving vincent to taste a little bit of her heart.</p><p>4. once the sky turns into deep grey, the eighteen hundred cats she has taken care will mourn for her soul and she will be a giant moth who visit at every golden hour. she will be watching over the world forever.</p><p>5. quentin is the fifth, a fifth moonchild who seeks metaphors at sundowns in an peaceful lake and collecting herbs for wishes, who seeks for warmth and love in a shivering night.</p><p>–quentin. 120820 ; 1:46 am</p>
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